


Veritaserum

by thescienceofsherlolly



Series: A Potter!lolly Science [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Arguing, Bad Flirting, F/M, Herbology, Irene being Irene, Kissing, Lovestruck John, Mild Physical Pain, Quidditch, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Surprise Kissing, Veritaserum, all the kissing, protective mary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 06:03:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6788962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescienceofsherlolly/pseuds/thescienceofsherlolly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Irene spikes Sherlock's pumpkin juice with Veritaserum in the hopes of ruining their upcoming Quidditch match.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Veritaserum

The only thing Sherlock Holmes had wanted from the morning was to enjoy his breakfast alone, a moment’s peace and solitude to organise his thoughts. It seemed, however, his peers had a different idea. The Ravenclaw’s first unwelcome guest of the morning was Irene Adler, an attractive vixen-esque Slytherin student – Adler would flirt with a Basilisk if it meant she’d get her way. Rumours about the two of them had spread throughout Hogwarts – it didn’t last long, thanks to Sherlock’s lack of interest and her lying and manipulating ways. That didn’t stop her from trying her hardest, though.

“Holmes,” Irene drawled, biting her red lips as she slipped beside him onto the bench; her slender fingers caressed the juice goblet on the table and Sherlock frowned.

“What do you want?”

Irene’s lips formed a perfect pout, “don’t be like that. I just wanted to make sure you were ready for our little Quidditch game later-“

“Yes, yes, I hadn’t forgotten!” Sherlock snapped, seizing the end of his blue and black tie from Irene’s grasp – how she’d managed to remove it from his jumper without him realising, he’d never know. Then again, she was quite distracting. Her feminine chuckle pulled him from his thoughts.

“Alright, I was only making sure. I wouldn’t you to miss it…especially if _she’s_ going to be there,” Sherlock looked at her for the first time, then, following her gaze to the Hufflepuff table; more specifically, she was smirking over at Molly Hooper, happily huddled with a small group of friends. Irene turned back in time to see him swallow nervously. Again, she chuckled, “oh, don’t worry, darling,” she drew out the word, her lips curling as she leaned closer to his ear, “I won’t bite…”

She was gone by the time he tore his gaze from Molly – he quickly gathered his thoughts and turned back to his breakfast, hunching over; Molly, his close friend, the one who had unknowingly captured his heart…she liked to attend his Quidditch matches, offering her support and kindness. She was often accompanied by his best friend, John Watson, and suddenly, Sherlock was nervous. Oh, he was a confident Seeker, the finest in his year some had said. Ever since his heart had decided Molly was the one, Sherlock had been keen to impress her and he often found himself unnaturally nervous in her company, especially when alone. It was going to be rather difficult focusing on catching the Snitch with this brought to his attention so ruthlessly by Irene. Why couldn’t she just leave things alone? He was quite happy dealing with in the back of his mind but-

“What did she say to you?”

Sherlock turned quickly to his next guest, frowning at Irene’s fellow Slytherin, Mary Morstan; unlike Irene, Mary was friendly and approachable, a friend. Ever since their first encounter when they were eleven on the Hogwarts Express, where she’d fended off some potential bullies., she declared herself his self-appointed protector. Even John had taken a shine to her, although in a completely different way to Sherlock. Despite his appreciation of her friendship, he still wasn’t in the mood for company.

“Nothing,” he muttered, spooning some cereal into his mouth in the hopes of ending conversation. Mary sat beside him, kitted out in her green and silver scarf.

“Was she picking on you?”

He dramatically placed his spoon on the table, “For the love of-

“You’re not starting things up with her again, are you?” Mary asked suspiciously, eyeing the entrance way to the Great Hall. Her friend huffed and attempted to ignore her but she was far from finished, “you know she’s going out with Kate, right?”

“It’s not like that. We were discussing Quidditch,” he spat for what felt like the hundredth time, resuming his cereal defiantly. Mary smiled, her voice soft.

“I don’t want you getting hurt…”

“I know. I’m fine,” Sherlock answered, his features remaining impassive. After a brief pause, he added, “but thank you.”

Deciding she wasn’t going to get much more out of him, Mary sighed and left him. He didn’t have long to bask in his solitude – after making sure Mary was well out of earshot, John occupied the empty seat next to his.

“Why were you talking to Morstan?” Before Sherlock could answer, the short Gryffindor interrupted, “what did she say? Did she mention me?”

“Yes, actually. You’re always the topic of our conversations,” the Ravenclaw replied fiercely, shoving his cereal bowl aside, “I even told her how you talk in your sleep, revealing your lifelong desire to brush her golden sunshine hair. I may have let slip how desperately you’re in love with her!”

He swigged his pumpkin juice grumpily, annoyed he hadn’t managed to shift his thoughts away from Molly. John still stared at him before he snorted, “you’re one to talk about being ‘desperately in love.’”

John slowly turned towards the Hufflepuff table, a faintly smug smile on his lips as he caught Sherlock’s mild blush from the corner of his eye. As if on cue, Molly turned and gave the two of them a shy wave, tucking a strand of her lovely hair behind her ear. He didn’t consider himself a romantic but Sherlock swore his heart skipped a beat – the continued smug grin on John’s face told him it showed in his expression. The Gryffindor reached for a slice of toast, gesturing it around as he spoke.

“Why don’t you go sit with her?”

John knew better than anyone about Sherlock’s blatant ignorance when it came to matters of the heart, which is why he wasn’t at all surprised when the brilliant wizard completely ignored him and gathered his bag, disappearing without another word. Sighing deeply, John turned his attention to the Hufflepuff table, noticing Molly’s constant glances towards the retreating Ravenclaw. He shook his head; theirs sure was a painful dance…

* * *

“Right, sixth years,” Professor Sprout’s voice boomed from the front of the awfully humid greenhouse, pulling on her pair of protective dragon hide gloves, “today we shall be extracting leaves from the dangerous Venomous Tentacula. You will work in pairs.”

A mixture of excited and worried murmurs erupted around the cramped space, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff alike. Molly Hooper stood awfully close to Sherlock Holmes, close enough for him to perfectly view the nape of her neck, clear due to the fact she’d swept her hair into a quick and easy bun. It was soft and smooth, he could tell…both skin and hair alike. His nose would be right at home, a hand curling around her waist to pull her close, his lips trailing along her-

“Sherlock!”

Sherlock quickly focused on Molly, noticing her questioning raised eyebrow – he glanced around the larger of the school’s greenhouses, realising most of his classmates had already started on their plants. He hastily snatched his gloves from her hands and pulled them on. The annoying Hufflepuff frowned, “unless you’d rather work with someone else…”

“No, no, I can manage,” Sherlock replied rather grumpily, avoiding looking at his partner, choosing instead to focus on the deadly plant in front of them.

He examined the plant closely, narrowing his eyes at the fangs surrounding the leafy head. The vines were long and mobile, attempting to drag and strangle students if they mishandled or got to close; it had also been known to fire spikes at prey. The round ‘mouth’ was lined with fangs, although his view was obscured by a mass of unruly leaves. His curiosity peaked, Sherlock reached forwards to move aside the offending fauna.

“Hang on,” Molly muttered, gently taking his wrist in her small hand; she hadn’t even looked up from her notes.

The vine shot forwards before either of them expected it, wrapping tightly around Molly’s own arm. She dropped her friend’s wrist immediately, attempting to tug her arm free. Her efforts proved in vain, the plant only clung on with an iron grip. Sherlock, too, wrestled with the plant using his bare hands, Molly’s pained whimpers strengthening him; in his panic, he had completely forgotten he was a perfectly competent wizard. The Tentacula wasn’t giving up easily, beginning to drag its ensnared prey closer to the protruding fangs, dripping with venom. A soft green light travelled in their direction, hitting the plant’s tentacle and severing it in two. Molly shook the remainder of the vine from her wrist, clutching her sore arm with her free arm. Professor Sprout bounded over, tucking away her wand but it was Sherlock who spoke first.

“What the hell was that?”

His tone was angry despite the fact he was breathing just as heavily as she was – the lesson had all but stopped as their fellow Ravenclaw and Hufflepuffs gathered around to view the argument. Molly blinked her wide eyes, still clutching her painful arm; her hair had come loose in the struggle and her body trembled from shock and fear. That didn’t stop her from looking at her friend in utter confusion.

“I-I’m sorry?”

“You almost got your arm torn off! What did you think you were doing?” Sherlock snapped, ignoring the glances his classmates gave each other. Molly’s shock quickly turned to anger and she prepared to unleash her wrath.

“That’s enough!” Professor Sprout interrupted, sensing the havoc that was about to develop, “Mr. Holmes, please escort Miss Hooper to the Hospital Wing. The rest of you, back to work,” when nobody moved, the Herbology professor clapped her hands fiercely, “quickly please!”

Sherlock seized his and Molly’s bags before marching from the classroom, closely followed by the bemused Hufflepuff. It was a relief to leave the sticky greenhouses, they just wished it was under different circumstances. Sherlock refused to speak to Molly during their walk back to the castle, upsetting the small brunette. Her arm throbbed in agony and she was certain it was either broken or badly sprained…and now one of her best friend’s was mad at her.

“You’ve been really off with me all day,” Molly commented when they reached the castle, glancing at her friend; he still said nothing, his face like thunder – he barked at people to move if they were unfortunate to get in their way. She took his elbow with her good hand before he could start to climb the grand staircase, “are you going to tell me what I’ve done?”

“Really, Molly?” He laughed coldly, shrugging out of her grip and still refusing to look at her, “apart from your ridiculously stupid behaviour today-“

“No, no, don’t try and blame this on me! You’ve been ignoring me all day, it’s not just because of…well, this,” she gestured at her limp arm. Sherlock breathed deeply, stuffing his gloved hands in the pockets of his robes.

“You don’t care, do you?” He was shaking his head, curls flying about, “you could have-“

“But I wasn’t!” Sherlock knew he was close to seeing the fire emerge from his usually quiet friend and he rolled his eyes indignantly, quickly ascending the stairs to the first floor, Molly following close behind, “YOU were the one who had your face next to that thing! YOU were the one who could have been killed! What is the matter with you?”

“I COULDN’T SAVE YOU!”

He threw her bag down and stormed off, leaving her standing outside the Hospital Wing indefinitely stunned by his admission.

* * *

The moment Sherlock left Ravenclaw Tower en route to the Quidditch Stadium, he was swatted around the head – he didn’t even need to look around to know who it was.

“You’re a prat,” Mary Morstan fumed, falling in step beside him; he did his best to ignore her but it wasn’t easy, “you seem to forget I’m good friends with Molly.”

“Mmm, everyone is,” he sighed, ruffling his hair, “it’s hard not to love her.”

“You called her stupid!” Mary shot back incredulously, shaking her head, “you’ve got a funny way of showing it.”

“Shouldn’t you be with your boyfriend?” He muttered, catching sight of Mary’s raised eyebrow. He couldn’t resist, “John. He loves you, you know,” Sherlock took advantage of Mary’s silence and quickened his steps, rounding the corner out of sight. She must have sprinted to catch up with him because, before he knew it, she’d pinned him against the wall.

“You’re not getting away that easily.”

His calm, almost smug, smile infuriated her, “you think I’m joking? Honestly, Mary, I expected better. The long, lingering looks, the smile only for you. At least _I_ am not so painfully obvious in my weakness. He took up Quidditch to impress you, he talks about you endlessly. He has even confided in me the life he has planned for the two of you. I can assure you, you are a very lucky person,” he shoved her away gently, brushing down his robes, “John Watson loves you and, please, do everyone a favour and end this ridiculous _lusting_ , it’s driving me mad! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to attend a Quidditch match I’m going to lose because, as you’ve rightly stated, I’ve ruined one of the greatest relationships I’ve ever created.”

Again, Sherlock made to leave but Mary stopped him. She was almost tearful with emotion, her stern exterior having melted under his admissions.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“You deserve to know.”

“And Molly? Does she deserve to know?” Mary raised an eyebrow suspiciously, something about Sherlock’s brutal honesty making her suspicious. The blue clad teenager sighed, ruffling his head of curls like a frantic madman as he finally snapped.

“You want me to tell her everything? How I cannot stop thinking about her, her kindness, her friendship and devotion…how much she means to me. It never occurs to anyone, not even _you_ , that I just can’t!” He paused to breathe in deeply, shaking his head, “I can’t tell her, I cannot hurt her anymore. It’s better this way,” sensing he was about to interrupted, he quickly continued, “look, she’s muggle-born, I’m pure-blood. Mycroft would have a fit. Not that I care what that cake-loving masochist thinks. Molly Hooper is far too good for me, don’t you understand? I love her too much to keep hurting her.”

Mary finally let him leave, rolling her eyes at the idiot – she knew perfectly well what he was frightened of and hurting Molly was only one of them. His truth and honesty had her thinking of breakfast, how she’d seen Irene hanging around him…playing with his juice goblet. It would be easy for someone like Irene to sneak into the Potions stores and nick a bottle of Veritaserum. She smiled triumphantly to herself.

“Mary?” John Watson had rounded the corner, carrying a dozen books. He proceeded to drop the lot when Mary stalked up to him and snogged the breath out of him. Indeed, when Mary let him go, the short Gryffindor was completely red-faced, grinning like a fool, “erm…”

“Oh, shhh, we can talk later,” Mary blushed, fiddling with the red and golden scarf covering her new love’s neck, “have you spoken to Sherlock today?”

“Yeah, he’s really off on one today,” he said quickly, clearing his throat several times to rid the huskiness, “went on about all sorts of nonsense,” he glanced at his shoes sheepishly, “do you really think I breathe too loudly when I think?”

“Yeah, but it’s cute…”

The boy nodded, a smug smile appearing on his face, “so I’m cute?”

“Not now, you, we’ve got to get to the stadium. Support our lovestruck friend, hmm?”

As Mary slipped her soft, warm hand into his, ready to walk down to the grounds, John felt as though his heart could have exploded.

* * *

“Another 10 points to Slytherin!” Greg Lestrade shouted through the megaphone, flipping the score sheet in front of him, “they’re leading Ravenclaw eighty-to-sixty.”

Sherlock swerved to avoid an incoming bludger, pausing high above the stands to survey the scene – his team were buzzing around like angry little bees, tackling and passing, dodging and weaving. They played well, which was the reason they weren’t losing too dramatically. It was all on him, the Seeker. He glanced towards the Slytherin goalposts – sure enough, Irene was smirking and waving at him smugly. He scowled and determinedly looked around for any sign of the Snitch; the Slytherin seeker was just as disoriented, zipping back and forth wildly. It was a clear day, not too much sun but still the tiny, glittering ball managed to elude the both of them. Sherlock glanced towards the supporters, a sea of blue and black cheered and screamed their names. Amidst them he knew to be a Gryffindor, Slytherin and most likely the Hufflepuff he’d hurt.

He sped towards the Ravenclaw section with the express intention of seeking out the three of them, ignoring the annoyed cry of his captain. It took him less than a minute to find them, standing at the very front of their block; all three of them had adorned outlandishly tall hats, tiny ravens flitted around the outside and through the middle. Sherlock halted his broom a mere inch in front of his target, Molly Hooper.

“Molly, I’m sorry…” he shook off his glove as quickly as he could, taking her small (and thankfully healed) hand in his; he ignored his pounding heartbeat and looked her in the eye for the first time that day, “I’m sorry for the way I’ve behaved today. I-I let my feelings for you overpower and use me. I don’t think you’re stupid, you’re _not_ stupid. You’re wonderful,” Molly blushed scarlet but Sherlock was far from finished, “I didn’t tell you because you can do better. I couldn’t tell you how much I love you. How I love the way you have a smile for every portrait you pass. I love how kind you are, how you give the mandrakes extra soil ‘so they have their own little blankets’,” John and Mary smiled at each other, reaching for each other’s hands as Molly giggled softly, “…your house colours make you look like a little bee, too. But I hate how much you care for me…when all I do is make things worse.”

“Err, mate-“ John began but it was too late.

The Golden Snitch, which had been casually floating beside the Ravenclaw Seeker’s ear, had been spotted by the opposing team. Slytherin’s Seeker rocketed towards the golden ball, so hell bent on catching the winning prize he veered uncontrollably, crashing straight into the opposing player blocking his path. Both Seekers were knocked from the brooms and tumbled to the ground, landing in a painful heap on the ground. The Slytherin Seeker groaned beneath the skinny and unbelievably bony Ravenclaw boy, wriggling around until he extracted the Snitch from somewhere underneath him.

“Erm…I think Slytherin caught the Snitch?” Greg’s utterly confused drawl sounded over the wild cheers and screams from the mass of green and silver supporters.

John, Mary and Molly had all raced from their seats upon witnessing the collision and hastily tumbled onto the pitch in time to see Sherlock hauling himself to his feet, rubbing his arm furiously and muttering curses aimed at the dazed Slytherin Seeker. Madam Pomfrey raced onto the pitch, two floating gurneys following her but Sherlock waved her off, despite being certain he’d dislocated something. He limped up to Molly, smiling lopsidedly; he couldn’t help but blush at the look of utter worry and devotion she had on her face.

“That was my fault…” she started, biting her lip; he huffed in protest but she tilted her head, “if getting hurt by that plant today was your fault, then blame me for this,” after a moment, he nodded his acceptance, “did you really mean all those wonderful things you said?”

“Oh, yes,” Sherlock smiled, wincing in pain as he attempted to stand up straight, “I couldn’t stop my outburst earlier during Herbology, it was uncontrollable. I hadn’t meant to say it…”

“Wait,” Mary interrupted, stepping forwards slightly, “you _knew_ Irene slipped you Veritaserum? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Once I realised, I hoped to use it to…” he glanced at John who had not one minute ago been clutching Mary Morstan’s hand, “everyone’s advantage. It’ll wear off soon enough…” he added dismissively.

Mary reluctantly re-joined her boyfriend, shooting malicious glares across the pitch to a celebrating Irene Adler. Molly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and stepped closer to Sherlock.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to think I was making excuses,” he said through his teeth, pain shooting up his arm; his shoulder was definitely damaged, “wh-when I said I couldn’t save you…there are some debates among apothecarians regarding the effects of Veritaserum. Prolonged exposure and a wizard’s own personal resistance-“

Molly silenced him with her soft lips, lips he’d once claimed were too small. Warmth spread throughout his insides and inflamed his cheeks but before he could respond she’d stepped away and rested her forehead against his.

“Those under the influence state only what they believe to be true.”

Sherlock nodded, the burning pain in his shoulder subsiding ever so slightly with her presence; neither of them cared about their substantial audience as Molly moved to caress his good arm, up and down repeatedly until she finally held his hand never once leaving his forehead.

“Your truth may be different to someone else’s. I might be a Veela to you and a troll to others…”

“Well, mine is the only truth that matters,” he shrugged, almost falling to his knees with the pain of it. Molly took him around the waist and steadied him on his feet; Sherlock attempted to shrug her off,” Molly, I’m fine-“

“You’re fine when I say you are. Come on, you’re going to the Hospital Wing and I’m coming with you…”

She steadied him and the two of them wobbled over to the remaining gurney - Madam Pomfrey looked mildly impressed with the Hufflepuff student, it was common knowledge Holmes was particularly stubborn. He allowed the girl to help him onto the portable bed, the boy putting up a mild fuss.

“Now, Mr. Holmes,” the matron waved her wand, raising the beds carrying Sherlock and the now unconscious Slytherin Seeker, “don’t make such a fuss. I’ll have you mended in minutes.”

Madam Pomfrey and the injured students disappeared at a worrying speed towards the castle, Sherlock’s pained groans and irritated complaints travelling across the grounds. Most of the spectators had disappeared and only John, Mary, Molly and the Slytherin Quidditch team remained on the pitch. John and Molly had started off towards the Hospital Wing, turning around when they noticed Mary wasn’t following them.

“Mary? You coming?” John asked, gesturing towards the castle; he followed her gaze over to Irene Adler and sighed, “no, Mary. Illegal, remember?”

“Hmm?” She muttered distractedly, still watching the smug, prancing Irene Adler, “you two go on…I’ll catch up with you.”

Molly was forced to suppress an amused snort as John gave her a sympathetic smile before following after his girlfriend, continuously muttering ‘no’.

* * *

By the time Molly reached the Hospital Wing, butterflies were dancing about her stomach in nervous excitement; she was just about to enter the infirmary when the heavy doors swung open, revealing a grumpy, dishevelled. He didn’t look surprised for very long as Molly threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.

“I’m still in a bit of pain, Molly,” he muttered, smoothing her hair awkwardly; the small girl jumped back, blushing profusely.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” she replied hastily, brushing his robes down and re-adjusting the bandage that held up his damaged arm. The Ravenclaw chuckled, stepping closer until he was able to look straight down at her.

“Actually, Molly,” he looped his long arms around her waist, taking great pride in the way her breath hitched; he leaned down, his hands climbing to her cheeks, leaving barely a space for air between them, “I was lying.”

The last thing Molly saw was a devastatingly handsome smirk before his sweet lips finally met hers.


End file.
